


Untagged

by Kabochan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Healing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Touching, One Shot, Oral Sex, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Scent Marking, Smut, Stiles Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Undercover Cop Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Courting, Werewolves as Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabochan/pseuds/Kabochan
Summary: Derek was fucked.Or he would be in a couple of minutes.In the literal sense of the word, that is.His world had turned itself upside down three days ago when Kate, the ex he had never wanted to see again in his life, came back to town and asked to meet with him.He only complied and went to her hotel because she said she wanted to apologize. He believed he would finally get the well-deserved satisfaction of refusing her apologies and tell her to fuck off and go to hell.In the end he didn’t get the chance to catch a single glimpse of her fake smile.In fact, he didn’t even manage to get to the hotel, because as soon as he stepped out of his car, he felt something was wrong.Gunpowder hit his nose and before he could react, something hit him square on the chest. He managed a menacing growl before everything went too dark too fast.(Or: I tried to write smut and ended up with this).
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 308





	Untagged

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, I wrote this about a year ago and my intention at first was to write pure smut, but I got carried away and it became this.  
> Beware this was written by one year ago me, which means there could potentially be a lot of mistakes.  
> I didn't have the chance to stop and review it, so sometime in the future I'll probably read over the whole thing again and correct it properly.  
> Update: Did a quick review and corrected the worse I could spot (no more a thousand of "he said/asked/answered) and changed the - thing for the " " thing.  
> If there's still anything bad, I'm sorry, but this will probably not be updated again for a long while.

Derek was fucked.

Or he would be in a couple of minutes.

In the literal sense of the word, that is.

His world had turned itself upside down three days ago when Kate, the ex he had never wanted to see again in his life, came back to town and asked to meet with him.

He only complied and went to her hotel because she said she wanted to _apologize_ . He believed he would finally get the well-deserved satisfaction of refusing her apologies and tell her to _fuck off and go to hell_.

In the end he didn’t get the chance to catch a single glimpse of her fake smile.

In fact, he didn’t even manage to get to the hotel, because as soon as he stepped out of his car, he felt something was wrong.

Gunpowder hit his nose and before he could react, something hit him square on the chest. He managed a menacing growl before everything went too dark too fast.

Derek woke up at an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers. The first thing he noticed was that they were all only in underwear and wearing weird collars. _He_ was half naked and wearing a collar.

They were all werewolves.

The second thing he saw was the hunters. All around them on a floor above, observing from the balcony with impassive eyes.

It wasn’t hard to realize where he was and what he was doing there.

(The realization also didn’t help making things easier).

He, among many others, tried to escape and attack the nearest hunter as soon as he found himself able to stand without swaying.

When he pounced though, the hunter just smirked smugly and stood in front of him. Derek didn’t understand why until the collar on his neck buzzed and his body spasmed in pain.

That still didn’t make him stop though.

He managed to slash the fucker’s face and sink his fangs on his throat when people started to shout and suddenly he felt pin pricking stings on his back.

The world went dark again and next time he woke up, he was alone.

Not really alone, he recognized the others he was with before, eyeing him cautiously from the other side of the bars that were caging him.

He snarled and tried to grab the metal, but hissed in pain when his hands burned at the contact. It must have been coated with Wolfsbane.

"See? I told you it would hold him just fine," he heard a guy commenting up the balcony.

"That isn’t how we work. We don’t deal with alphas for fucks sake," grumbled a short haired woman at his side.

He stared at them silently and flashed his eyes just to spite them.

"Yeah, what can he do from there? Absolutely nothing, we’re fine," the man met his eyes calmly, just like the assessing way you look at an object you’re considering selling.

"Fine? And what happens when it’s time to let him go out? What about then? We shoot him again and what? He wakes up and maims the client?" The woman looked really pissed off and Derek relished how her frustration spiked up when he snarled at her, now fangs out to accompany the red eyes.

"Then we give him a dose, just enough to make him... Docile, but not enough to knock him out. I’m telling you, we can do this. Imagine how much money people are willing to pay to fuck an alpha."

Derek’s blood turned cold after that. The slow rumbling he got going was suddenly cut off.

The man noticed and gave him a filthy smug smirk. That caused Derek to pick up again, now roaring against the bars of the cage, eyes fixed on the pair above him and wishing all he felt was fury, but in truth he was also filled with desperation and horror.

He was scared and chilled to the bones with the realization this wasn’t simple werewolf abducting, using them as tools for physical labor or crimes as usual. They were using them as sex slaves.

"I want this straightened out beforehand. Get the right dose straightened out, test how docile he is at least three times before letting him even near a client. I don’t want any incident. This could be our fortune or our ruin," then the woman promptly left the balcony, leaving the man by himself, grinning down manically at him.

After that Derek only grew restless. His desperation was showing in many ways other than vocally, he was pacing around the small space that was his cage and tried destroying the bars again, then the roof of his cage, then, on the brink of a panic meltdown, he even resorted to attacking the fucking floor.

He wasn’t aware of time, but his nerves only got worse as he watched slowly how the werewolves from before were being herded out of the room.

One by one they were manhandled out in different states of distress. While some acted like he had, lashing out and attacking, most of the others went in a frightened, subdued silence. 

Eventually his collar buzzed to life and this time the shock was strong enough to paralyze his movements, making him an easy shoot target.

After that everything became too hazy. Things moved too slow before his eyes, but every time he blinked his surroundings looked different. His body felt loose but at the same time restricted in a tight embrace.

As a werewolf, he never got intoxicated, drugs didn’t do much to his metabolism and alcohol only worked if carefully mixed with a rare strain of wolfsbane, something way too difficult and expensive to come across and even if he did get a chance to drink it, he wouldn’t trust himself to do it and not risk revealing his werewolf nature to humans or just making a complete fool of himself by getting pissed.

Although the supernatural wasn't a secret matter anymore, it still made humans tense knowing you were capable of ripping their spines off of their bodies. He imagined it would be even worse if he got drunk.

And that's why he never drank wolfsbane infused drinks. He's never had this weird feeling of disorientation as his senses got messed with. It felt wrong and alarming, not having control over his hands, not feeling anything through his numb nose, able to see things, but not having half a mind to understand what they meant.

Voices passed him and even in his current state, he could tell they were dangerous and _wrong_. Even if his body and human side were suppressed and dulled down, twisted and manipulated, his wolf side was pretty attentive and aware of everything around.

That’s why his instincts screamed at him that everything in this situation was dangerous and he should run as fast as he could, as far as his legs could take him.

The fact that he could only stumble and grunt when he crashed on the floor just aggravated his wolf even more.

Rough hands lifted him up from the ground and he tried with all his unfocused will to escape their grasp, that only resulted in distant angry voices and a dull faint pain prickling his arm.

After that it was _hell._

To top the scary fogginess clouding his head, he also felt his body being poured in flames, it burned on fire, but at the same time an icy dreadful feeling pooled deep in his gut.

His wolf whined and howled in pain as they both struggled to not shatter over the pain of the urge to claim while they _knew_ there was nobody there.

It shattered him in pieces and made his knees go weak to the ground.

More voices rose around him, words that meant nothing buzzed constantly around him and suddenly he was jerked back to reality when he realized there was another scent of lust lingering around.

He took a deep breath in and was hit with all kinds of _wrong wrong wrong._

Something touched his crotch, _too close._

And he snarled, finding strength from who knows where, he felt the familiar itch of claws popping out and with a sudden moment of clarity, he slashed the man in front of him, roaring in fury when arms tackled him to the ground again.

The haziness was deeper after that and the flaming burn came back two times again, it felt like they happened only seconds one after the other and at the same time like months had passed by. They were smart and didn’t stop drugging him once they figured out the ideal dose to not completely clonk him out, but enough to make his body pliant and his wolf useless.

Derek only knew the heating flame licking his body and the deep rooted loneliness of his wolf.

He dreaded it and anxiously waited for it. The consuming flames were torture over his body, mind and wolf all at the same time, but at some point he knew he’d have a brief moment of clarity before being banned from his own consciousness again. The single seconds when they tried to pair him with someone that wasn’t his mate were precious.

That small glimpse of reality gave Derek hope, because that was the only chance he had to exercise his own agency.

They tried to force his body on some horny random person, but they underestimated the instincts of an alpha.

They didn’t know what it meant to be in rut with somebody else, it was a matter dealt with secrecy even among pack. Triggering a beta was different from an alpha, being stuck in a rut with someone as an alpha didn’t mean just fucking all night long, it meant bonding for life.

There weren’t many rules written in stone for werewolves, but the general topic of mates was one of them.

Sure, an alpha still could have sex and fuck around as much as any other beta or any other human, but ruts were special, it wasn’t something they could control, it wasn’t seasonal and it depended solely if you found your mate and if all mating rituals went smoothly, when both parties could decline the other at any point, a rut would be naturally triggered.

Having his own body turned against him, Derek was constantly in pain, too weak to fight it, he just numbly let his foggy mind be split in two. His body aching for something, _anything_ , while his wolf howled inside, urging him to just _go_ and look for his mate.

So when Derek saw himself being dragged back to consciousness again and took a deep breath in, only to be hit in the gut with a mouth watering smell, well, that’s when he knew he was truthfully fucked.

Either the hunters had found a way to trick his wolf by making him think the person in the next room was his mate, or behind this door he would really find his mate.

Which terrified him more, he didn’t know.

He didn’t have time to think, he heard someone laugh, the room spun too fast, and soon he was shoved through the door and was immediately engulfed in the smell of fresh leaves against the wind, of thunder and ozone. It felt so right that he had to claw his own thigh to suppress a whimper.

God, this _was_ his mate. And of course it would be.

At 37, Derek didn’t need to be told anymore he had a terrible history when it came to his love life. Every single one of the people he had let come close had tricked him in some way. All of them had also seemed like a perfect fit to him at first.

In the end he always had to pick himself up after being thoroughly played.

The fact that his mate was here, in a facility where werewolves were used as sex toys to bring others satisfaction shouldn’t have surprised him so much.

Still, he couldn’t stop his wolf from melting over the sheer force of the scent that gently enveloped him and automatically lulled his instincts into a calm state of safety and relief.

It was only his human side that kept him from blindly reaching for the smell, strong enough to overpower the numbness of his body, to shake him awake a bit more each moment he spent inhaling it.

Ever since that first time, when he slashed the fucker who tried to touch him, they had kept him restrained in all possible ways, blindfolded, hands tied on his back, ankles linked with a short chain, heavy things covering his ears and something he assumed was a muzzle around his jaw obliterated his already dulled senses to nearly nothing.

The only thing left was his nose, which he used fully to absorb as much as he could from the delicious, maddening scent.

And he dreaded what would happen now.

Would he be used as a fucking dildo until his mate got satisfied, or would they do the fucking, relishing in the power over an alpha?

Either way he knew his wolf would be mistakenly happy over it. He could already feel his instincts trying to contradict him, calming him against his will.

People were still talking by the muffled words he managed to catch, but his nose told more.

The nice tantalizing scent was spiced with anger and a touch of bitter fear.

Derek had to brace himself firmly to stop his wolf from going to the source of the scent and try to make it better. Fuck mate instincts.

Then suddenly someone pushed Derek forward. Drugged as he was, his legs uselessly tangled in themselves and he anticipated his collision with the floor when two hands caught him.

He could tell people were shouting by noise that filtered through his headphones, but other than that his body and mind were completely focused on the body hugged against his.

An involuntary sigh left his lips and he sagged against the touch.

He actually whimpered when a hand softly rubbed his arm in response.

Derek tried to reign his wolf, he really did, but at some point he completely lost control over it and found his nose buried in the stranger’s neck, where the scent was stronger and thicker. His wolf relished on the touch, rubbing his face against it, seeking comfort after weeks of fear and despair, trying to still the present tingle of fury and sourness on his mate.

But he wasn’t stupid, his human side watched all that terrified, expecting the rejection at any moment now. He knew he looked threatening on his best days, after being abducted and maintained in captivity for this long he probably looked like a half-crazed alpha ready to kill.

No sane person would let him this close.

Which is why he stopped completely when a soothing hand clasped the back of his neck and squeezed firmly.

Derek’s wolf now wasn’t the only one who whined, because that gesture was a deliberate thing from someone who knew how to calm wolves down and while his body relaxed even further, his mind whirled in panic.

What if this person knew enough to realize how much power they held over him? What if they took advantage of their status as mate?

Derek didn’t have a pack to lead, but he knew a single alpha could inflict a lot of damage alone, he couldn’t imagine how bad things could go if someone with evil intent managed to grab a hold of his wolf.

And yet the hands just caressed him in repetitive innocent motions, never going below his waist, the touches never beyond friendly and chaste.

But then the scent got overwhelmed with intense rage and Derek flinched in surprise when the headphones were yanked from his head. Then a loud outraged voice boomed:

"Don’t talk about him as if he’s a fucking animal! He’s right here, why don’t you fucking _ask him_?"

Derek isn’t surprised that the voice is deep and very much male, the scent gave that away, as the size of the hands firmly gripping him, but he is surprised by how filled with emotion it sounds, pissed off and burning with fury.

It takes a moment to Derek’s brain to catch up and he realized belatedly he’s the one they’re talking about.

With great effort, he manages to find his own tongue and slurs:

"Wha-?"

Someone growls on the other side of the room and his mate’s hands now envelop his body protectively. His wolf all but _rumbles_ at the act.

"Your pet seems pretty content with you, Mr. Stiles, I don’t see why you’re worried about his... Will."

Derek feels the chest pressed against his huff out.

"Just Stiles is fine, and I’m not sure I appreciate the way you handle your employees."

God, Derek just wants to drown in his mate, in _Stiles_. He tries to move his arms to hug him back, and fidgets in discomfort when he remembers they are still tightly tied on his back. His mind is still hazy a bit, but he unexpectedly feels himself getting increasingly lucid.

He’s grateful for it, but he’s not sure he wants to jolt back to reality right now.

"And we’re not sure we appreciate your curiosity over the way we run our business. We’ve never found another patron so intent on questioning our methods... At least not one who was a _real_ patron."

Silence.

Derek growls lowly when his mate’s scent becomes slightly tinged with fear.

He presses his mouth firmly against his mate’s neck and hunches his body, trying to shield most of it.

But when his voice speaks up again, it’s firm and there isn’t even a single trace of wariness on it.

"I came here for very specific reasons. Privacy and safety are essential conditions if you expect me to accept your accommodations. And I expect you to abide to them, since I was _invited_ to begin with. Or should I take the invitation as a form of offence? Is it common for you to accuse your patrons when they are about to enjoy themselves? Or do you want to discover how I _really_ enjoy myself when I lose my patience? Because if that’s the case, I won’t need the bed or the room, just a dinner between my family and yours and everything will be fine. You wouldn’t even need to concern yourselves over the meat, I assure you we’ll easily provide something of _your taste."_

Derek shudders not at the cheery words, or the underlying threat behind them, but the low, menacing cold tone of the voice.

This is what he was expecting when he stepped inside, someone ruthless and terrifying.

Red alerts are shining on his mind and he recoils a bit to the biting tone of the words, but his wolf insisted on staying attached to who it had already decided as their mate.

Stiles, as he was apparently called, seemed to have taken notice of Derek’s changed attitude, because his roaming hands freeze and his scent now give away a new variety of scents.

Concern and determination confused Derek even further.

"We’re very sorry sir, it wasn’t our intention to offend you, but in our business and in this specific situation you can’t blame us from being overly cautious. This employee is... _Very_ _special_ and we’d hate to see anything happening to him or to _you_ sir."

Derek’s wolf got increasingly agitated as tension rose in the air. His mind was clear enough now that even he recognized the implied threat and he was torn between snarling at the words and just letting the two figures kill themselves.

Who was he kidding, psychopath or not, he wouldn’t be able to watch his mate be killed in his presence.

A loud growl let his chest and he softly pushed his mate a bit, trying to at least move him away from the danger.

A snort came across the room.

"Well, someone’s eager. You’ll find him prepared and ready for any _activity_ you wish to engage".

It was Stiles turn to snarl.

"I specifically requested you to _not_ touch or interact with not even a single hair of his head."

The answer came filled with disdain:

"Don’t worry, all kinds of preparation are done amongst employees, we ourselves don’t come in contact with _staff."_

Derek shudders, he didn’t remember anything about preparations or others in contact with him, he probably lost more memories than he thought.

A hand promptly runs through his back, stroking him with startling intimacy.

"Well, what are you standing there for, then? Does this look like a public event?"

A humorless chuckle and equal unamused words followed:

"We hope you have a great evening, _Stiles_. Should you need anything, we will be right behind the door."

Another veiled threat and Derek is growling again, but soon the door was closing and they were alone.

Before Derek could decide how to react, warmness leaves his body and he finds himself alone again. An involuntary distressed whine escapes his mouth and a soothing hand pats his chest in response.

"Don’t worry big guy, I’ll just check a few things then I’ll come right back to you. Just- just sit tight for a moment, kay?" His voice is hurried and whispered, completely different from his tone just seconds ago and Derek felt like he missed something.

A hand presses insistently down on his shoulder and eventually he lets himself flop on the surface near his legs.

He could tell by the way it bounced that it was a bed. His body immediately tensed again, but he soon realized there was nothing to worry about, because his mate was currently shuffling around, moving things and cursing as he went.

Derek feels weirdly disappointed and relieved that his mate’s attention isn’t on him anymore.

He is startled when his voice speaks up in that chilly tone again:

"I warned I wouldn’t tolerate any invasion to my privacy."

Then it sounded like something tiny was crushed in pieces.

His mind just sluggishly provides him with _bugs_ , when a warm hand touches his arm.

"They can’t hear us from the inside, but there are hunters posted in front of the door," then a hand briefly squeezes his shoulder. "I’m sorry for this."

Derek frowns at the apologetic words and grunts in surprise when he’s pushed to his back.

He feels the fear paralyze him when legs positioned themselves straddling him, one at each side of his ribs.

But before he could do anything to protect himself, he is shocked to hear blatant moans suddenly blast from his mate.

"Hmmmm yesss, just like that. C’mon, harder," a loud hiss of pleasure and a constant stream of dirty talk then renders Derek speechless.

With his mind clearer than it had been for days, he feels his jaw go slack.

He was faking it.

The shameless sounds filled the room and Derek blushed harder when they turned outright porny.

Bullying his mind even further he realizes all of this had been kind of weird.

Stiles – if that as even his real name – had said on many occasions that he wanted privacy, he even made a sweep through the room and cleaned the remaining intrusions. His touches, although comforting, were never invasive or improper and even now, when he was being straddled, he could only feel both legs beside him, there wasn’t any real weight of a body on top of him, like Stiles was carefully avoiding improper touch.

Derek realizes in that moment that he was being _rescued_. By his mate. Who probably had no idea he was actually his mate.

He had to confirm his theory. Right now.

"Untie me," he managed, feeling more in control of faculties each second longer.

There was a brief pause to the cacophony of lustful sounds, then the legs besides his body were gone and soon Derek feels himself being flipped and something sharp cuts the wolfsbane infused rope tying his pulses.

He couldn’t believe he was right.

If he were wrong, Stiles would’ve never listened to him, why would he untie him if he had all control over him perfectly wrapped like a gift? Nobody that was actually a patron in this place, benefitting from wolf slaves would do it. It was too risky.

Which could only mean they were on the same side, which in turn meant Stiles was far from being a psychopath ready to take advantage of Derek’s powers.

Which meant Derek had no excuse left to not claim his mate at this point, because his instincts were whirling inside his head, turning up the burning again.

Before he thought it through, his wolf roared in contentment and Derek let it free.

Stiles yelps when Derek tackles him and flips their positions. He let his weight cage Stiles and with his mind finally getting a grip to reality, he hums approvingly as he feels muscles shifting below him, squirming when Derek presses his nose against a perfectly scented neck.

"You-" Stiles gasps when Derek lets his hands roam down a delicious happy trail. "You don’t have to do this! You are safe."

Derek wants to snort at that. Of course he was safe. His mate came for him. But he is too engrossed in getting turned on by Stiles’ words.

He is drunk on his mate’s scent, radiating with worry, surprise and lust.

"I need this. Need you," he mumbles miserably, wishing they had met in different circumstances, in a _normal_ situation at least. Not in who knows where, with him still out of sorts, blindfolded and half naked while Stiles _still kept moaning like a porn star_ below him.

"No no no, listen to me, I promise you! You’re free. We just have to hang on for a little while, then everything will be fine. I pinky promise, you don’t have to do this with me or anyone else anymore."

Derek sighs in frustration while he curls himself on top of his mate.

"I didn’t do this with anyone else," he takes a deep breath and lets his mind drift for a bit, lost in the sensations of Stiles "just you."

"What? That- that’s not possible. You’ve been here for two months" Stiles makes use of the brief pause and dutifully lets out some loud moans.

"Take my blindfolds off," Derek requests then.

Stiles didn’t question the fact that Derek has his hands free and is now perfectly capable of taking them off himself, he just brushes fingers against Derek’s cheeks, then pulls the knot behind his head and unclasps the restriction around his jaw.

Light floors Derek’s vision and a surprised gasp makes him blink down.

Oh.

Stiles is attractive. Very attractive.

Expressive eyes stare back at him and shine in a rich honey brown, beautiful lips hang open and a wild tousled hair makes Stiles look completely fucked out.

Derek gulps when he briefly eyes broad shoulders, lean muscles and a bulging erection.

"Holy shit, you’re _gorgeous!_ What the fuck?!"

Derek’s wolf preens, he feels his cheeks warm up and his browns frown in a glare. He doesn’t do well with compliments.

"Oh god, you’re even sexier with the grumpy face, what’s up with that? How _didn’t_ anybody else touch you? Shit, you were probably the sensation of this place!"

His voice comes out squeaky and Derek doesn’t need his nose to realize how much Stiles appreciates his looks.

"Because of this," Derek mumbles right before flashing his bright red eyes for a moment.

Stiles’ eyes widen and it takes him a moment to process the information, because after the other shoe dropped, he stammers out:

"But that means- You are- but I’m not- We’re-"

Derek’s wolf could only contain itself for so long, so he simply growls out:

"Mate."

And delves into Stiles again.

Nose pressed against his neck, chest rumbling so loud that the bed was shaking a little, arms tight around Stiles’ body, his own weight pressed firmly against his mate’s.

He noses all the soft skin and rubs his face against it, licks it slowly, taking his sweet time to properly taste him and bury himself on everything that was his mate.

"What are you _doing?" Comes_ out a strangled voice.

It takes Derek a moment to realize Stiles is talking to him again. After a blurred period of having absolutely nobody directly talking to you, it was weird having someone addressing him again, being in a conversation, not rhetorical, one sided curses and exclamations.

"Scenting," he answers, unfazed, as he progresses to nipping and ravishing the tender piece of flesh he managed to expose where neck meets shoulder and his wolf purrs by the way Stiles choked in a gasp.

"I can see that," Derek gently bites his lobe and Stiles words falters for a moment, before returning full force, "Are you sure this is ok? I mean, I only heard rumors about werewolves’ mates and I’m still not sure if this is really it or if it’s something in the drugs they gave you. And even if it is the uh- mates thing, this is probably the worst way ever for us to meet and- I mean, not that I don’t dig you, trust me, I _more_ than dig you, I dig you so much to the point I _shove_ you, which doesn’t even make sense, I mean..."

Derek is dangerously close to Stiles mouth now, he keeps dropping feather light peppering kisses on his cheeks and jaw. He interrupts the steady words overflowing, because they seem more out of nervousness than a real attempt at communication, so he interrupts.

"They triggered a rut. Can’t get rid of that, not right now, not with you here," he hufs and nuzzles Stiles’ face before tentatively licking his lower lip.

Stiles freezes.

"A _rut_? But doesn’t that mean a bond for-"

He then stops himself and Derek realizes with a pleasant surprise that Stiles’ knowledge of werewolves might go deeper than both of them had thought.

"For life. Yeah," those were Derek’s last words before Stiles lips touched his and he sighs, overwhelmed with warmness and comfort.

He slowly and continuingly brushes his lips against Stiles’ own. His breath is shallow and ragged, Derek’s is deep and calm in contrast.

His body is a bit numb, but much better than it had been since that first day. His mind, before burning in a feverish need, now hums in content satisfaction and the flames that had been licking his body die out and become a warm pleasant spread on his chest.

He could spend hours just relishing and basking on Stiles with feather touches and careful nibbling, tasting and scenting for all the time they didn’t have.

Mate rituals were a pretty huge deal and it irked Derek that they were forced to skip it.

He wanted to give Stiles a chance to say no, but at the same time his wolf already considered him his mate.

His inner battle was suddenly cut off when he feels warm hands and long fingers running through his hair, lightly grabbing and yanking it.

An appreciative rumble leaves Derek’s chest and he leans into the touch.

Stiles then tilts his head one side and with a shock Derek feels a slow lick to his lips.

He opens his eyes in surprise, only to find Stiles’ own watching him carefully.

Derek gulps, feeling the need to claim soar through him again, as Stiles lightly bites his lower lip and runs his tongue on it again, eyes searching and questioning.

Now tensing his arms, Derek takes a deep breath when his mate’s hands leave his hair and start roaming through his body, appreciatively cupping his cheeks, descending down his neck, shoulders, squeezing his arms, running randomly through his chest and scratching dangerously down, tantalizing hands dipping down on both his thighs.

Derek feels his body tremble and shiver in pleasure.

He descends his body again and glues himself to Stiles, making him gasp with the sudden weight pinning him again and their crotches colliding.

Stiles arches up at the same time Derek dips his head down and then they were finally kissing. Slow and deep and every kind of toe-curling tingling sensation making his head dizzy in a good way.

If scenting Stiles was grounding and centering, tasting him was intoxicating and addicting.

No matter how much he let his tongue swirl and intertwine, exploring his mouth in an unhurried pace, Derek thought he would never get enough of it.

Stiles himself seems just as entranced by it, even if a bit more impatient. His mouth is intense and bold against his lips, hands snaking through his back and delicious nails scratching him.

Derek gasps on his mouth when he feels Stiles’ hips surge up, effectively rubbing their erections together. His mouth slacks open when Stiles keeps undulating against him, their covered dicks twitching and straining as his movements pick up a pace.

His mind suddenly snaps from the pleasure pooled deep down when he hears Stiles’ quiet grunt. It’s so startlingly different from the loud moans he let out earlier that Derek realizes how much of a fake act they were.

He can't help but watch in fascination as Stiles lets out shallow huffs of breath and tiny aborted whines with his eyes closed in concentration while he still works to rub himself on Derek’s body.

Something unlocks inside Derek and he growls deep and loud. He wants _more_ . He wants to _make_ Stiles scream louder than when he was faking it. He wants to hear his voice rough and used.

With a firm hand, he pins Stiles’ moving hips to the bed, stopping all his movements suddenly.

Rich browns open to stare him back in a mix of confusion, worry and annoyance. But then Derek brings his hips down and grounds their dicks together in a long, powerful movement, making the bed creak and have Stiles moan out loud at that, mattress dipping with the force Derek’s pressing themselves together.

He keeps his movements slow and strong, Stiles gasping every time he finishes one full body roll and starts another in one seamless motion.

His mate’s body spasm with his motions, hands now wildly moving through Derek’s everything, not settling anywhere in particular and only occasionally stopping to grip him tightly when Derek manages to align their dicks perfectly.

Stiles’ delicious scent is so tinged with arousal and pleasure, mixing so perfectly with his own that Derek buries his nose on his neck again, taking deep breaths as he speeds up his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck,"_ Stiles breathless voice cuts through him and Derek growls, feeling his scent spike up and his body spasming below him.

Then Stiles takes a huge gulp of air and Derek watches with a rumbling satisfaction as he starts to come, his expression scrunching in intensity then relaxing in one go.

Derek stops his movements altogether when Stiles whines and shudders, overwhelmed, hands moving to stop him, definitely oversensitive.

Without a single ounce of grace, Derek gets up and sits on his heels, he yanks his underwear down and starts to stroke his dick. His stomach flipping inside out when Stiles opens lazy, heavy eyes and another spike of lust colors his scent.

His gaze fixes on Derek’s moving fist, then it slowly drags up, eyeing him appreciatively until it stops and stares into his own eyes.

Litting up with a mischievous glint, Derek watches as he opens his mouth and puts his tongue out.

His movements falter when he realizes what Stiles is asking for.

Derek knows his eyes are glowing in furious red, because he feels his wolf going slightly mad over the erotic display.

From his playful gaze, to his slightly smirking lustful mouth, to his relaxed and loose limbs and his content, blissed out scent.

Derek takes a deep breath in and stops his hand completely, closing his eyes in a half assed attempt to stop himself from coming just from Stiles sight.

But before he can recompose himself, he feels a tentative hand slowly stroking up his thigh. His eyes snap open and he watches stunned as Stiles crouches below him, hands massaging all of his folded tensed thighs in wide, strong circles.

He’s mouthing the sensitive skin of his crotch with careful eyes seeking his own in a clear wordless question.

Derek huffs a shaky breath out and holds his dick down while he gently strokes Stiles hair and face with the other.

That’s all permission Stiles needs to swallow Derek in one smooth, gut punching, movement.

Derek feels all his muscles contract and his hands clench in fists by his side.

He wants to kill his mate and fucking worship him at the same time, because Stiles doesn’t know the concept of _warming up._ He delves without a single drop of hesitation on Derek’s dick.

Sucking his brains out, kissing and licking with the desperation of a drowning man.

When he realizes Derek’s hands as still balled in tight fists, he grabs one, manages to unclench and open it with soothing fingers, then he directs it to his cheek and with glinting eyes, he presses Derek’s cock inside his mouth, against the same cheek Derek’s fingers are pressed right now.

And Derek can’t do anything but growl and lose a bit more of control when Stiles guides his own fingers, directing them to rub on his cheek and swipe them against the head of his cock through the warmth of his mouth.

His mate is a _menace._

Stiles finally stops teasing him when his hips start to twitch against his will and he dips dangerously close to coming. He engulfs his dick down a couple more times, then takes to lavish his head with special attention, while his hands work his length in a rhythmic pumping up and down.

Derek’s dangling close, but what ultimately snaps his control is when Stiles looks up with warm eyes, pulls his mouth away with a faint pop and presses his lips against the tip of his head in a delicate kiss.

With that view, Derek’s orgasm hits him full force and he refuses to shut his eyes as he lets out a warning growl and watches as Stiles catches most of his come with his tongue and sucks the waves of spurts down his throat.

Derek is left panting, hand still cupping Stiles cheek, rubbing it with trembling fingers in feather like touches.

Eventually Stiles finishes licking him clean and just stays there, head leaning on Derek’s touch and they share a long, intense, stare contest.

Derek’s finger slips in his mouth and he dips down to kiss Stiles again.

He tastes himself on his lips and shudders at the feeling that takes over him, Stiles’ arms tighten against him and Derek’s body relaxes and sags suddenly.

The exhaustion and relief flood him completely and before he knows, he’s already floating away with the pleasant feeling of warm hands holding him upright and a soothing scent encasing him protectively.

Even Derek’s wolf goes without a fight, completely subdued and content in just resting after the madness they lived in for weeks.

When Derek wakes up again, he feels warm and comfortable, but the scents surrounding him are wrong and it’s what drags him back to awareness.

The characteristic smell of medicine and sterile environment irritates his nose, but he is also taken back with the familiar scent of his family.

It’s relieving and overwhelming all at once.

Relieving because it’s been a long time since he allowed himself to see them, to have his parents hug him tightly and his siblings to approach him with comforting words and touches. It’s overwhelming because of the very same reasons.

It’s been a long time since he had cut himself off from them.

He’s scolded for that, but not as harshly as he expected, guilt crushes him when he realizes how much they missed him and how desperate he made them when they received a notice from the police how people from his work hadn’t seen him in days.

When he’s released, they take him back to the pack’s house. He is tense and uncertain, but his mom assures him even if he’s become an alpha, he is welcome back all the same and nothing that happened back then was his fault.

He doesn’t believe it, the part which he isn’t to blame, but he also thinks he’s got enough from being a lone wolf, longing for his family and away from the pack he grew up with, so he begrudgingly slots back into his pack after years of reclusion, even if a bit awkward and hesitant at first.

They don’t ask him why he clearly smells like an alpha who had just left rut, even if no mate has shown up on their door. Derek doesn’t talk about Stiles either.

As soon as he woke up on the hospital, he craved Stiles. They didn’t complete the mating bond ritual, but came dangerously close to do so.

He wants to convince himself the drugs made everything seem good and perfect, that there’s no way the things he felt were real, that the way Stiles kissed him and touched him were all the rut filtering his eyes and making everything seem better than it actually was.

He tries to get over him. Forces his mind to change course every time his craving becomes too much.

It’s fucking hell, but he holds on for a whole, long year of recovery and healing.

He’s amended things enough with his family that they know a thing or two about the whole mateless situation, but nothing specific, he knows how terrible it is that they didn’t follow proper courtship and even worse that Derek wasn’t on his right mind at the time.

He had to testify against the hunters on court, but even then, he didn’t catch a single glimpse of Stiles. Back then, he was overtaken with a mix of disappointment, frustration and longing, even if he told himself he was stupid and what they had that day wasn’t real.

He learned that Stiles was an officer working undercover in this case for a long time to break this particular organization.

He doesn’t appear at the court, but his name occasionally pops out in citations and reports.

He considers looking for him more often than not, but he’s too afraid what might happen if he does contact him. They didn’t cement anything, even if his wolf is driving him crazy, he knows they aren’t bonded and, therefore, don’t have any ties to each other.

That’s why is such a shock when months later, as Derek’s walking back to his car, just leaving his weekly appointment with his psychologist (another change added to his life during the past year that he should’ve done it before), the wind changes direction and he catches it.

It’s November and cold, but even as his nose hurts a bit from the huge gulp of freezing air he takes in, he can’t stop himself.

His wolf perks up, alert and searching.

Thunder, leaves and wind.

_Stiles._

He turns and watches in disbelief as, on the other side of the street, Stiles stands on layers and layers of clothes, complete with a beanie and a scarf. Derek drinks on the sight and can’t help but stare at the way he moves.

He’s so distracted by the simple fact that Stiles popped out of nowhere right now and then that it’s too late when he realizes Stiles is coming _towards_ him.

His wolf is overjoyed and bursts with happiness and excitement, but Derek also tenses in anxiety and uncertainty.

Stiles is coming towards the parking lot with another alpha by his side. He hasn’t noticed Derek yet, but the other wolf has.

Derek knows he should probably acknowledge the other alpha to at least assure him he’s not a threat, because he imagines the way he’s staring at Stiles is nothing but _predatory._ But he can’t drag his eyes from Stiles and make his mouth work.

They’re two cars away when the other wolf stops completely, eyeing Derek warily, effectively catching Stiles’ attention and making him stop as well and look around.

When their eyes meet Derek just knows their single encounter wasn’t a thing out of his rut induced fevered mind. Because Stiles eyes widen in shock, a deep blush takes over all his face as his eyes glint with confusion and hesitance, but his scent bursts in a wave of longing, surprise and _hope._

Derek is holding himself back out of sheer willpower. He _wants_ to go to Stiles and embrace him. But at the same time, he doesn’t know if he should.

The way they met barely passed the concept of consenting.

So he stays glued to the ground, unsure if he should just turn back to his car and leave before he could do something stupid, or if he should just say fuck it and go to him.

Stiles resolves his dilemma by ignoring the hushed warnings of the wolf accompanying him and walking up to Derek.

His eyes are serious with a surprisingly steely determination.

He stops right in front of him and Derek watches in surprise when he speaks up with an unwavering voice:

"Hi, my name’s Stiles Stilinsky, I’m a federal agent, we met eleven months and twenty six days ago - not that I’m counting - under a weird, confusing and highly unfavorable situation. I can’t get you out of my mind since then. Would like to grab a cup of coffee? As in right now?"

Derek can only manage to nod in agreement with a faint “Derek Hale” in response, watching in bewilderment as Stiles’ face morphs into a huge goofy smile.

They leave the parking lot, Stiles signals something complex to the other wolf (which is answered with an eye roll) and enter the nearest café they stumble upon.

They sit after getting their order, still in a somewhat awkward silence, each sipping their own coffee and Derek has to catch himself several times when he’s about to reach for Stiles just out of instinct.

The tension looms over them as clearly neither of them knows exactly how to proceed.

Finally, Stiles blurts out of nowhere:

"I’m sorry."

He’s clearly nervous and not as confident as he seemed back in the parking lot.

"I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you when you were in the situation you were back then. It was wrong of me, I- I know it’s a lame excuse when I clearly was conscious and should have concentrated on just doing my job and nothing more."

He’s biting his lower lip, gaze stuck to their table and scent giving off guilt and shame.

Derek frowns in confusion and watches as another stream of words stumble out of his mouth.

"I know that I said I can’t get you out of my mind, but I promise I’m not trying to start anything, I just- I just wanted to say sorry. I promise I’ll leave you alone, I know it’s unfair of me to drag you to talk to me again when I did what I did to you, but I just wanted to let you know that even if it doesn’t fix things, I’m sorry for what I did and I’m not expecting forgiveness or understanding or anything, I just- I know it’s kind of selfish of me, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry."

He shuts his mouth, closes his eyes and frowns, as if he’s bracing himself to be punched or slapped.

Derek is shocked to silence for a beat.

"What are you talking about? I was the one stuck in a rut, the werewolf who jumped you out of nowhere."

Stiles finally lifts his eyes to meet his own and his mouth opens in a surprised “o” before he snorts in disbelief.

"Did it really look I did something against my will that night?"

Derek’s frown deepens and he retorts:

"You weren’t the werewolf alpha looming over an unsuspecting human."

"Yeah, but the unsuspecting human was also a trained agent with a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets while very willingly sucking your dick."

Stiles realizes what he’s said a second after he actually said it and Derek would chuckle at the sight of Stiles going a deep shade of red, if his own cheeks weren't burning as well.

The sight of Stiles kissing the head of his cock iss still deeply etched in his mind.

Derek is still trying to get a hold of himself, when Stiles blurts out again:

"Does that mean you don’t want to hunt my ass down and murder me?"

Stiles looks disbelieving and a touch hopeful.

Derek eyes him carefully.

"Hunt you down maybe, but definitely not to murder you."

Stiles huffs out in relief and smiles at him in wonder. His shoulders sag a bit in relief and he shakes his head.

"I didn’t think I’d ever see you again," he plays with his mug of coffee for a moment, eyes darting back to the table and to Derek’s eyes nervously, before continuing, "we didn’t complete the bond."

It’s not a question.

Derek feels the tension rise again.

"No, we didn’t."

Stiles gives him a long look, not giving away anything.

"Do you want to?"

Derek’s wolf wants to jump in and agree to it immediately, urging him to mark and claim. But he wants to do this the right way, so instead of answering, he throws in another question:

"How much do you know about werewolves?"

Unfazed by Derek’s non-answer in turn, Stiles shrugs.

"A bit. More than your regular guy, I guess."

Derek nods, he knew that already by Stiles’ actions last time they met, so he continues, watching him carefully.

"How much do you know about... Courting rituals?"

Stiles pauses at that for a moment, eyes glinting with something Derek can’t name.

"I didn’t know much before, but I researched a lot these past months."

Derek nods and without saying anything else, he leans in, raises his hand, inching closer and carefully snags Stiles fingers from his mug, still silent, he keeps his eyes glued to long fingers trapped on his own, lightly running a sole digit from the tip of Stiles’ pointer to the back of his hand.

He turns the pliant hand palm up and slowly traces invisible patterns on it, running his finger down until it’s pressing lightly against the pulse on Stiles’ wrist. He feels it for a moment and basks in the feeling of his mate, scratching in small movements against the tender skin.

His wolf is sighing, swimming in peaceful contentment.

"Fuck."

Derek’s eyes snap up.

Stiles’ eyes are stuck to their hands, his cheeks all crimson red again. His scent is as amazing as Derek remembers, tinged with arousal but now a good dose of something else, something gentler and less frantic.

He feels his heart beat faster when he realizes that Stiles is enjoying this. A lot.

Then he extends the other hand Derek is not holding slowly up and just as carefully as Derek did, he places feather touches starting from his stubbled jaw and then upwards, exploring every inch of Derek's face with warm, tentative fingers.

Brushing over his eyebrows, sliding across his cheeks, mapping out his temple and gently going over his lips.

Derek closes both his eyes and is startled to how _not_ agitated he feels.

Touching, acknowledging and discovering each other is the general first step to courtship.

It’s supposed to be awkward, weird and tense.I t’s when wolves really realize if they have any kind of compatibility and if what they feel has potential be more.

Maybe it’s because they did this all backwards, but it feels raw and intimate. Way closer and personal compared to what they did one year ago. Derek feels enraptured and already too deep in this than he imagined.

Someone drops a glass somewhere behind them, dragging them out of their bubble of intimacy.

Derek blinks his eyes open and leans back again on his seat, leaving his hand intertwined on Stiles’ fingers. He takes a deep breath, trying to get his head back in place.

Stiles lets out a heavy breath out as well and says roughly:

"Are courtships supposed to be this intense?"

Derek shrugs, his own voice coming out croaked:

"Don’t know. Never did it before."

Stiles eyes him in surprise and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He closes it and frowns. Then his eyes dart around, looking a bit lost and overwhelmed.

Doubt starts to creep in his mind. Maybe this is too much to Stiles. If he researched, he knows what it means to be bonded to an alpha.

Maybe he wants out.

Derek is about to take his hand back to himself, when Stiles turns his attention to him again.

"Do you want to take this somewhere more private?"

He can only manage to respond by lifting his eyebrows up in surprise.

Stiles turns another shade of red.

"I-I mean, not like _that_ , I know there’s a long, tortuous path until we can get back to _that_ stage again. I just mean this doesn’t look like the ideal place to _progress_ things further."

Derek knows what he means. Stiles seems to have done a pretty thorough job on werewolf courtship, because they can get away with touching as light PDA in the cafe, but it only gets more intense after that.

He nods.

"Are you comfortable with my place?"

Stiles eyes Derek a bit warily.

"Will your pack be there?"

Derek smirks in amusement and shakes his head.

"I've got my own place."

Stiles looks a bit relieved, but opts to nod and not say anything else.

When they go get the bill, both of them insist on paying, until Stiles pauses, eyes him knowingly.

"Is this another courtship thing?"

Derek is about to deny it, when he realizes that yes, it kind of is. Providing and all that shit translated into modern days.

He ducks his head and grunts out:

"Will you just let me?"

Stiles smirks smugly at him, but when they’re leaving, he announces next time he’s paying.

Derek can only question himself if there really will be a next time.

They’re back at the parking lot and while they’re on their way to his house, Derek learns Stiles is physically unable to let silence hang for too long.

Derek understands by now that Stiles’ rambles are his way of dealing with his own nerves. He doesn’t seem nervous in a bad way, just filled with excitement and overflowing energy.

Derek confirms how lost he is on Stiles when he realizes he’s not bothered in the least by the amount of words running out in a rapid-fire flow.

Usually high energy people drain him out or just straight bore him, but Stiles’ speech on the realistic usefulness of a towel in space just makes him feel lighter and chuckle a bit.

Stiles spends the rest of the trip talking and shifting subjects. It’s fast paced conversation, and Derek sees himself talking about pack and family before parking on his spot.

"So you’re not the alpha? Of your pack, I mean," Stiles asks as they call the elevator.

"No, that’s my mom. I’m part of the pack, above most of the betas, but below my mom’s inner circle," now he's at a point he can talk about them with an easiness that wouldn’t be possible months ago.

"I was part of a pack once," Stiles looks away for a moment, going for nonchalant, but the downturn of his mouth giving him away, "I liked it, but there isn’t much a human can do in times of need."

He shrugs dismissively, but it isn’t hard to read the slump of his shoulders and a sudden lack of stream of words.

As the elevator doors close before them, Derek leans closer, brushing their arms together and shoulders bump.

Stiles glances a smirk at him.

"Sneaky werewolf courtship."

He seems playful, but it doesn’t reach his eyes completely. There’s hesitance on him now and Derek knows it’s not exactly about himself and their current situation, so he just keeps the silence and their arms bumping.

They get to his floor and after Derek adjusts the heating and they’re both seating on his couch, their coats hanging on his rack, Stiles is still uncharacteristically quiet and pensive.

Derek deliberately grabs Stiles’ hand again.

"Do you still want to continue this?"

That snaps Stiles out of his inner stupor.

"What? Of course, why? Do you want to stop?"

Derek shakes his head, but continues, still keeping his gaze on Stiles’ fingers and how he plays with them.

"I think we should take this slow."

Stiles relaxes a bit after that.

"Yeah, I think that’ll be better too. Not that that first time was anything short of amazing, I mean, I’m not over how hard you made me-"

"Stiles _,"_ Derek manages out, now tightly gripping his fingers, "this doesn’t help going slow."

"Right," Stiles shuffles awkwardly in place and shakes his head, "sorry."

Derek loosens his hold and goes back to fiddling with Stiles hand.

"It’s ok. I couldn’t forget you too."

Then he brings Stiles’ hand up and closer, he brushes his lips against his knuckles and gives in a bit to his wolf by turning his hand and exposing his wrist, nosing his pulse and taking a deep breath in, taking in his scent and basking on it.

He loses himself a bit in it and lightly rubs himself against the point. Without further thinking, he let’s his tongue dart out and lick a short strip of the tender flesh.

Then there’s a sharp intake of breath and Derek opens the eyes he didn’t realize he had closed in the first place.

Stiles is eyeing him intensely and his lips look deliciously red, his eyes are dark and his voice is rough when he speaks again:

"This is also not helping going slow, Derek."

Derek’s eyes quickly flicker down his crotch and he realizes that this whole taking things slow will be more difficult than he previously thought.

He clears his throat and puts Stiles hand back on his own lap, but Stiles scowls at that.

"I’m not saying you should stop."

Derek smirks, but doesn’t take his hand again, instead he reclines a bit and makes a conscious effort to relax.

"I think I had my fair share of scenting, don’t you want to have a go?"

Stiles deadpans.

"Me? Scenting? You do know I’m not a werewolf, right?"

Derek lifts an eyebrow, gets a bit comfier on the couch and just closes his eyes.

"Last time I checked humans also had noses."

He sits patiently still until the cushions under him dip a bit and Stiles suddenly feels way closer.

Knowing humans don’t have such an accurate sense of smell, Derek expected Stiles to go directly for his neck, but it still makes his heart speed when he feels nose and lips brushing his skin.

Derek tries to keep perfectly still as Stiles goes from the base of his neck to the back of his ear. He shudders, feeling goosebumps break all over his body when Stiles sucks deep breaths in, melting a bit inside out when he feels as much as he hears a long, low, hum of approval.

"Shit, you smell good," then he scoots even closer.

Derek can feel Stiles’ warm body towering over him.

He supposes he should feel at least a tiny bit threatened over the fact this is pretty much a display of dominance over him, but Derek’s wolf is perfectly cool with that, he actually preens a bit at how much interest Stiles is showing over them.

Stiles tangles his fingers in Derek’s hair and dips his head, exposing his throat completely.

Derek can’t help but tense a bit in response, it’s a touchy area for werewolves and not a place Derek is really used to being freely accessed like that.

He thinks Stiles may have done it unknowingly, but when he opens his eyes, he finds a sharp gaze fixed on him, watching him closely.

Derek huffs out and relaxes on Stiles’ hold, tilting his head a bit further and not breaking eye contact even as he feels Stiles fingers descending from loosely griping his locks, to gently running them down to his cheeks, until both his hands are cupping both sides of his neck, not circling his throat, just fingers resting on his skin.

A shudder roams through his body and Derek swallows, Stiles lightly thumbing the slow up and down of his Adam’s apple.

He doesn’t know how long they keep their position, the feather touches of Stiles’ fingers make his head light and body warm. There’s a low scent of arousal permeating the air around them, but it’s heavily overwhelmed by the heady combination of both their scents emanating pure satisfaction and contentment.

Stiles has settled on his lap now and although their bodies were pressed close and their crotches occasionally brushed against each other, none of them took it further than Stiles’ slow exploration and wandering touches.

Stiles’ head dips lower and leans on his shoulder, while he keeps his fingers delicately mapping his neck.

Derek yawns and shuffles on the couch, sliding into a comfier position and enveloping Stiles with both his arms, relishing on the feel of them protectively holding his mate.

Their breaths are steady and Derek sinks on a pleasant sleep with the soothing feeling of Stiles’ fingers making lazy circles on his chest.

Sleep is incredibly good.

Derek slowly wakes up feeling well rested and just... Generally _good._

Which hasn’t happened in a while.

Even with therapy getting him back on his feet and life being blessedly uneventful, Derek still found himself struggling to get a good night of sleep.

He’s swimming on pleasant scents and warm, fuzzy, feelings, when last night comes crashing down on him, promptly jolting him awake to sit upwards.

Whipping his head around, he realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s alone on his couch.

Despite their combined scent still being thick in the air, Derek can’t listen or smell the signs of anybody else in his apartment.

Which can only mean Stiles left.

He’s about to dive into a frantic rush of panic, shock and sadness, when something colorful catches his eye.

It’s a bright pink post-it that Laura gave him, when he mentioned he always forgot to buy tooth paste when he’s out and often has to make a second trip back the supermarket to get it.

Now he still forgets to buy it, but he's got neon post-its on his coffee table.

On the paper, Derek can read hasty words that he manages to decipher into “Sorry. Work. Late. See you later?"

He can’t help a stupid smile take over his face and spends probably more time than he should staring at the thing.

Feeling embarrassed for his almost freak out from moments ago, Derek shakes himself and goes to get on with his day.

It’s a Friday and he has the day off.

That’s why he stretches and takes lazy steps to his bathroom, still thinking about Stiles and the implications of last night.

Then he finds another pink thing. This time it’s attached to the mirror above his sink and he curiously reads it, the handwriting not as bad as the first one: “Had to use your toothbrush. Sorry again.”

Derek shrugs at that, not even remotely irked at the fact someone else touched his stuff.

He guesses it’s another benefit extended only to his mate, because his wolf doesn’t even react on the fact.

So he brushes his teeth and proceeds with his routine, taking a nice shower, going over the steps they worked through courtship last night and wondering what he could do next, when he has another realization.

He can’t do anything next, because he doesn’t have any idea how to reach Stiles.

He’s frowning when he’s getting changed, wondering if finally looking Stiles up on social media will help him out.

Refreshed and ready to take his breakfast and go on his morning jog, he notices his kitchen has, not only one, but three post-its stuck on different surfaces.

He snorts and goes to the closest to the door, on the fridge.

“ ~~Stole~~ Borrowed the bottle of water, I PROMISE I’ll give it back ASAP. Have I said sorry?”

Then on one of his shelves.

“Dude. Where’s all your food? For a werewolf, you have too much fruit stuff.”

And finally, the last one on his window by the sink.

“Nice view. We should go there next time.”

There's an arrow pointing to the small patch of green that shows the park three blocks away from his apartment.

Now, definitely smiling like a madman, Derek spends his breakfast distracted, wondering how Stiles had managed to leave a little of himself in his life.

He's ready to leave when he notices something on his door.

He doesn’t need to pick it up to see what it is, but he does it anyway.

Unsticking the thing from his door, he smiles fondly at the numbers and the smiley face below them.

If he put it in his phone, he's sure Stiles’ voice would answer it.


End file.
